Cyclical
by fallen-chan
Summary: Somewhere, there is a fairy-tale about the priestess and the demon. Her fairy-tale will never end.


**Disclaimer:** nothing belongs to me.

**A/N:** this ... is old. found it on my hard drive and decided to post it [because I do not want to write more papers right now]. Typed up in 2008, but I'm pretty sure bits and pieces were written out a few years before.

_

* * *

Nothing lasts forever_

He no longer remembers what started this cycle. Nor does she. They fight and rip and claw and tear at each other until there is nothing left, no more blood to spill.

They can not die.

०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०

She was the little girl, huddled in a corner of the room and crying. He was the man who had come under the cover of night, slit the throats of all the men for his own amusement.

He raised his sword and she met his eyes, defiant until the very end.

It was the only time he won.

०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०

They no longer know how long it has been, trapped in this never-ending cycle. It could be days. It could be years.

They are disconnected from reality, trapped in a little bubble of time and space that never changes.

If she tries, she can still smell the blood staining the ground. He can still smell her ancient fear, long departed with the discovery that they can not die.

_Tick-tock, tick-tock, how time flies! _

She looks outside their little bubble one day and sees death in the eye (_but was it not death at her side, death who peered out with empty eyes and raised his sword to take her head?)_.

The time for fairy-tales is coming to an end. They both know this.

She ducks from his sword and pounces on him, dirty nails tearing at his face and eyes until all that remains is a pulpy mess. He ignores it, focusing instead on the sword through her stomach.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

There is blood on his shirt. There is blood on her hands. They die again, listening to the sound of falling blood and rain.

_Wait for me by moonlight. I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way._

०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०

The next time she sees him, centuries have passed. Blue eyes meet red from across a crowded street and she drops whatever it was she was holding and runs (_fight-or-flight reaction, natural response of a prey facing a predator, sympathetic nervous system working now, her mind babbles pointlessly_).

He lets her run. For them, the world is a never-ending circle. He knows that she will be back.

A week later, she runs into his back and he grabs her by the shoulder, nails digging into her skin.

"Did you miss me?"

_Neither can live while the other survives, she once read in a storybook. _

His hand shifts to her throat as she struggles weakly, pointlessly.

_Kill her, kill her, kill__kill__**kill**__ the useless woman, make her suffer and bleed and scream a pretty scream, the voices howl. _

Once upon a time, he would have indulged himself. Now, he snaps her neck with both hands and lets her drop to the muddy street.

The bullet that blows out the back of his skull and sends brain matter flying has never seemed sweeter.

०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०

He sees her, an innocent little girl surrounded by flowers sitting on a hill. She sees him, giggles, and waves.

"Do I know you?" she asks him, all sugar-sweet and innocent, a blank page waiting to be spilled on.

He doesn't answer.

_Yes. No. Perhaps._

She is still smiling when he cuts her heart out, eyes wide open and staring at the blue_blue_ sky.

When he trips over a loose rock and falls, his own bloody knife disemboweling him, he sees her smile and laughs. The blood bubbles out from his mouth and he coughs before falling silent.

"_Do I know you?" asked the little girl at the cross-roads. "Because you see, I have these dreams…"_

०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०

The next time they meet, she sees him first again.

"Why do you do this?" she asks, even as she backs him closer to the edge of a cliff. "Why find me just to kill me?"

He doesn't answer (_again_). She grows tired of waiting for his response and pushes, sending him tumbling over the edge.

His fingers brush against her sleeve before he catches her hand and pulls her down with him. When their bodies are found, it is called a joint suicide.

"_Star-struck lovers" the female police whisper to one another knowingly. "He couldn't be with her, or she couldn't be with him. How romantic."_

Across the world, pale fingers twitch and he is born again. She is still waiting, floating in nothingness.

०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०

"_I love you" said the boy with the childish face and bright eyes. _

He slams her against the wall, fingers burning against her skin. She gasps and struggles to breath, a broken rib puncturing her lung.

"You belong to me" he snarls, pressing the smoking barrel of a gun to her forehead. His fingers tighten on the trigger and he pulls, sending hot lead through the fragile bone protecting her brain.

He sits next to a dead, decaying body and whispers sweet nothings to it, reminding it that he is the master.

When he dies, she is waiting for him.

_Goodbye is never forever_.

०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०

There is a little boy with black hair and red eyes sitting on the hill. There is a little girl with black hair and blue eyes sitting on the hill.

"My name is-" he begins in unison with her.

"Naraku."

"Kagome."

_Would you be alone for eternity? He thinks that it is a lonely existence. She agrees._

They die together this time, pushed into the path of an oncoming train. She thinks that she sees a smile on his face before the train hits them. So does he.

०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०

There is a fairy tale about a noble priestess and a horrible monster locked in eternal conflict.

"…_and she sealed him away into the jewel and she joined him so that everyone could live happily ever after."_

Many centuries later, she realizes that the priestess is familiar to her.

Down the street, he laughs and waits for her to walk past him again.

_So the circle goes_.


End file.
